


16th June

by Maia_Nebula



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 03:52:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16987542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maia_Nebula/pseuds/Maia_Nebula
Summary: It’d been six months but he still clearly remembered what he’d posted. He also clearly remembered Sherlock’s last words.





	16th June

\-----

It’d been six months but he still clearly remembered what he’d posted. He also clearly remembered Sherlock’s last words. 

_It’s all true._

He swallowed thickly and blinked repeatedly, as he gathered his belongings. The clock in the room chimed twice, signaling the end of his shift.

_Everything they said about me._

He rolled his shoulders and lowered his head. How could a single conversation be so haunting?

_This phone call, it’s..._

He had considered going back to Ella briefly, but decided against it. None of her methods had worked before, so there was no reason to believe they would work now. 

_An apology._

She had assured him writing would help ease the pain, and though she was wrong about many things almost constantly (PTSD, for starters), he had given her the benefit of the doubt.

_I’m a fake._

He remembered waiting, thinking, drumming his fingers on the desk restlessly, as he had thought how he could best honor his late friend. He remembered staring at the blank post page for days.

_…tell anyone who will listen to you…_

He closed his eyes briefly, but the words –as always– kept repeating themselves in his head. He turned the lights off and exited the room.

_…that I created Moriarty for my own purposes._

The blog had never really been a venting method. If it had, being woken up at three in the morning would have featured more heavily in it. It hadn't been Sherlock's fan site either, no matter what people said. Yes, Sherlock was mentioned often, but only because he was part of his adventures; it would've been Murray and the rest of RAMC if he was still in Afghanistan.

_It’s a trick._

No, the blog had actually been a way to register that things did happen in his life. Crazy, dangerous, frustrating or fun, all the posts showed how his life hadn't ended after he'd been discharged. And now that–

_Just a magic trick._

John pinched the bridge of his nose before stopping in the middle of the hallway and placing his head in his hands.

_Keep your eyes fixed on me._

He could hear footsteps approaching.

_The newspapers were right all along._

Greg was speaking softly, but he could not reply: averaging 136 work-hours-a-week since The Fall, he no longer had the energy to stop everything from crumbling around him. 

_No one could be that clever._

A dry sob escaped him. The DI moved closer. 

_I – I – I can’t come down…_

He’d wanted so bad to do as he was told! Maybe if he’d done so, he’d feel better now… But he would never believe Sherlock was a fraud and he would never publish the lies Sherlock wanted him to post. 

_So we’ll…_

It had taken him an hour to find an appropriate video and two to write the correct words.

_We’ll just have to do it like this._

He had deactivated the comments and logged off.

_It’s what people do, don’t they?_

He had never logged in again.

_Leave a note…_

A teary chuckle escaped him, and he knew his knees would soon give out. For a moment, he heard Sherlock voicing “ _SENTIMENT_ ” in his head.

_I’m on the rooftop._

Unthinkingly, John pulled Greg into a hug.

_Please…_

It had been months. He’d held himself together for months.

_Will you do this?_

Everyone had caved in, but him. 

_For me?_

And now he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. He was making sounds with no meaning, as the man that held him tried to keep them both standing up in a vacant hallway instead of toppling to the surgery's floor.

_I’m a fake._

He wasn’t a crying man.

_Please…_

But now he was openly sobbing.

_It’s a trick._

The DI hugged him tighter, but said nothing.

_Just a magic trick._

And Sherlock was falling from Bart’s roof over and over again, and what John had written also kept repeating itself in his head–

> **He was my best friend and I'll always believe in him.**  
>  _–16th June_

_Goodbye, John._


End file.
